Oxytocin
by LoliTurk
Summary: Oxytocin is a chemical secreted by the brain to induce feelings of love and companionship. When Bruce Wayne becomes too involved after a certain Scarecrow escapes Arkham, will the chemical bring them together or tear them apart? Wayne/Crane Chapter 3 up
1. Chapter 1

A bell cried out, bouncing off the walls of Arkham Asylum. Jonathan glanced over his shoulder and hid an orange TV remote in a potted plant. Quickly, he wiped his filthy hands on the curtains and jumped into the couch before anyone could see. He turned to a random page of his book and pretended to read.

Edward Nigma was the first to rush in, overjoyed to see that it was only the bookworm. He ran past the couch to search the usual places were the remote was kept. As the seconds became minutes, the Riddler became more agitated. "Where is it? Jeopardy will be on at any minute!" He huffed and turned to the doctor-turned-inmate, "Have you seen-?"

"Do I at all seem interested in television?" Crane stated as he flipped a page. "Ask Harley, you know how much she likes dramas."

The redhead nodded in agreement, recalling that she _did_ steal it once awhile back.

Bloodless blue eyes glanced up to see an overly-cheerful girl ramble on about how donations can save the…something. Seals, wetlands, it didn't matter. The point was: celebrities were playing golf. Supposedly it was for charity.

And even that was unimportant, because Scarecrow only wanted to see one person.

His attention was broken by said clown-girl flopping down on a cushion. "Wow, lookit all the rich stiffs. Bet they nevah had a real laugh, huh?"

Crane ignored her, and there he was.

Too casually dressed for the event, Bruce Wayne dismissed any ire with a smile. His tee-shirt was snug in all the right places, and the color complemented his lightly tanned skin. The bazillionare bid his pet bimbo goodbye and stepped forward to his turn. Scarecrow found it unusual how the news focused more on who he was dated, instead of how well Wayne Enterprises is doing since his return.

"Why are we watching this trash?" Edward fumed, bordering on giving up on his quiz shows.

Harley was offended. "This ain't trash! You just don't understand quality entertainment." She upturned her nose in a snooty fashion.

A security guard rolled his eyes, everyday it was the same thing. Idly he yearned for a smoke, and cursed his missing lighter. Riddler threw an arm around his fellow intellectual and said "Well, I believe there is at least one person who will agree that-"

"Shut up, he's taking a shot!" Crane shouted, shoving Edward out of the way so he could see. It seemed to have been good, because the audience clapped and cheered.

Meanwhile in Arkham, things weren't going as well. Scarecrow's face was growing red after his outburst and Harley did nothing to contain her laughter. "It was _you_!" Edward exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger "And I don't think you're watching this for the golf!" The guard snickered. He suspected there was something a bit swishy about the good doctor.

"And I don't blame him! Hubba Hubba!"

Crane wanted to crawl under a rock and die of embarrassment. Surely, this day could not get any worse.

It could however, get better.

In another room down the hall, a fight broke out between inmates and their guard was called to help. Taking advantage of the situation, Jonathan climbed onto the table and fished something out of his pocket.

"What on Earth are you doin'?" Harley asked in confusion.

Crane held the stolen lighter high and stretched to reach the sprinkler. "You two can stay here if you want, but I'm getting out." Even with the table, the ceiling was still painfully high. He strained the muscles in his legs and held it up by the tips of fingers. Something clicked and he never so happy to be drenched.

The blonde girl shrieked in joy at the buzz of electronic locks opening. It was only a matter of time until someone figured it out, and Crane's fair-weather friends were already gone. He tucked his glasses into his shirt and made for the door.

Right down the hall and to the left, he ran past workers on laundry duty. The weight of an industrial-size bottle of detergent was enough to shatter a window, and a leap of faith sent him plummeting to the ground.

The fall from a second-story window was enough for a few scrapes and bruises, but nothing serious. He brushed away the dirt clinging to his damp clothes and ran to the docks. He found the modest supply ship and managed to sneak aboard.

Inside a barely-used storage room was a network of overhead pipes that would be a perfect hiding place. Jonathan climbed up the boxes and found a dark corner to sleep. The only thing left now to do was wait.

…

Bruce dismissed an interview and merely nodded at congratulations on reaching the next round of the tournament. In truth, the sport bored him and he planned to lose in the semi-finals.

Alfred greeted him as soon as he entered the car and handed him a tablet. "What's this?" The playboy asked, scrolling through pages of information.

"Just received it less than an hour ago, sir. It seems that some loon pulled the fire alarm at Arkham and they're trying to find out who."

Almost all of the prisoners were caught and returned to their cells, but a handful was still unaccounted for. Bruce stopped at the sight of a handsome doctor. "I think we found our arsonist…" He opened up a profile and began to read "Scarecrow's on the move again."

"Do you think he's reached the city yet?"

"Of course."

Night came and went with no new leads on the villain's location. Scarecrow was saner than most and that's what made him such a dangerous enemy. He could think, he could plan, and rarely acted on impulse. The doctor's profile was becoming an interesting read though.

He had gone through more psychiatrists than most, mainly because he turned his doctors into patients. Crane was well behaved, but didn't respond to any treatment. Bruce's breath hitched at the sight of his medical history.

As a child, there were multiple reported trips to the emergency room for stitches and broken bones. There were photographs of unexplained scars all over his back and shoulders, with a jagged line on his temple hidden by dark hair. The billionaire was appalled at how such blatant abuse went on unchecked for years.

Morning came early and guilt gnawed at his insides. Alfred arrived with a tray of breakfast and found his master sleeping at his desk. He set the tray down and shook him gently "Master Bruce? Are you alright?"

The brunette sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. "Why didn't anyone help him, Alfred?" He asked softly.

The butler knitted his brows in confusion. "Help who?"

"Nevermind" Bruce was more awake now and reached for a piece of toast, regretting what he said. Alfred understood in an instant "You can't blame yourself for someone else's mistakes, or the fact that he hurt others."

"I know this already." He growled.

"Then I'm repeating it. Be careful, or did you forget what happened in the Narrows?"

Bruce didn't like being torn away from his more important job to play golf with celebrities, but his butler wouldn't take 'No' for an answer.

He painted on his fakest smile and blossomed as a social butterfly as he joined the other socialites. Camera flashed and drinks were poured, yet something was amiss.

One cameraman stood out from the crowded country club. He was dressed in a dress shirt and tie, unusual for the casual event, and he wasn't even taking pictures. Pale blue eyes scanned the crowd and caught Bruce's from across the room.

It was Jonathan.

The billionaire tried not to think of when 'Scarecrow' became 'Jonathan', instead he followed chased him as the thin man moved away. Bruce knew criminals were human, but why did this one bother him so much? Maybe it was the fact that his parents were killed too, maybe because his murderer was never caught.

He found Jonathan outside and leaning against a wall, seemingly waiting for a ride. "Excuse me sir, but I can't help but feel like I know you from somewhere." The billionaire asked, unsure of what he was doing.

Scarecrow smiled and was oddly pleased to see him. "I thought Bruce Wayne knew everyone." He teased with the corner of his mouth curling into a satisfied smirk.

_Such sweet, full lips, just one little kiss… _Bruce was snapped back to reality at that thought, and hoped his embarrassment wasn't as obvious as he feared. He covered it up with conversation, "I think I missed one then, because I can't remember your name." _Damn it, what the hell is wrong with me! Yesterday he was a dangerous criminal, today I want to know what his chapstick tastes like! _

"It's Jon" He purred and took a step closer to the panicked billionaire. The _last_ thing Bruce wanted.

"Do you need a ride?" He offered, cursing his want to be alone together. _Is he flirting with me?_

"Mine will be here any minute and besides…" Crane leaned in close to whisper in his ear breathlessly "I want to see you win."

Bruce's knees threatened to buckle then and there. Instead he was saved by the arrival of a black Ford with tinted windows. Seeing his ride, Crane bid him goodbye.

Before the doctor could leave, he grabbed the thin man's sleeve in a rush of desperation. _Please don't go! _

Jonathan was calmly surprised at being grabbed so suddenly and asked innocently "Yes, Mr. Wayne?" His face was turning red like a child who was caught doing something particularly naughty "…Uh, thanks for your support."

He gave the same smug grin again "You're welcome"

Bruce watched him get in the car and drive away, leaving him standing there like an idiot. A part of the billionaire felt awfully sad that he was gone and silently wished he would come back. His skin was burning and oversensitive, and he yearned to be alone.

He walked back inside as calmly as he could and took refuge in an unoccupied restroom. He locked the door tight and kept the lights off. Leaning over the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, but it helped little to quench the fire.

He rested his warm forehead on his arm as he tried to sooth his rapid heartbeat. Unconsciously, his other hand rubbed his stomach to loosen the growing knot before sliding downwards.

Slowly he pressed his palm to the needy heat growing between his legs. Bruce's eyes slipped closed, enjoying the touch. _"Jonathan…" _He moaned, the memories of photographs fuelled his desires.

_He shoved the good doctor against the wall and crushed their mouths together before he could protest. A red silk tie was thrown to the floor and Bruce tore open his shirt to sink his teeth into exposed neck. The billionaire left sloppy wet kisses and raked his teeth until the white skin turned pink. Crane's gasping cries were music to his ears._

_He could feel the smaller man's ribs through his white cotton shirt and gripped the crotch of his pants. Scarecrow screamed in pleasure at the none-too-gentle hand massaging his scrotum. Bruce grinned at how he was already leaking through his pants. He let go and commanded Jonathan to turn around and place his hands on the wall._

_His face was flushed with arousal and he touched his glasses hesitantly, before Bruce slapped his hand away. He took off Crane's glasses and threw them into the sink. "I want to see your eyes." He growled and pulled him by the collar into another demanding kiss. He wanted to remember the taste of his mouth forever and felt guilty when he pulled away to repeat the command. _

_Crane did as he was told and turned around. He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the linoleum. Jonathan glanced back to smile and take in his shocked face when he leaned forward, slowly sliding his dark boxers off. Bruce licked his lips and grew even harder for the body offered to him. _

_He pushed his lover's shirt up to gently kiss the scars on his back. Strong hands spread Crane's cheeks and fingers teased the puckered slit hidden between. He wanted Jonathan always, not just now. He wanted to kiss the pain away, to make them whole again. _

_Slender hips moved in time with his fingers, and Scarecrow pleaded "Please Bruce, I can't wait any longer…"_

_He unzipped his shorts and spread cold soap on his aching length as makeshift lubrication. Using one hand to hold Crane's hips and another to guide him inside, he wanted this to last. The good doctor stretched to accept the throbbing organ, scraping his nails on the wallpaper as he cried out._

_Bruce bit his lip at the overwhelming tightness, and pulled out halfway before pushing himself in as deep as he could. Crane threw his head back and made a high-pitched sound that could only be approval. He began to build at a rhythm that was hard and fast, and the billionaire wondered why he didn't do this sooner. He never felt this good with a woman._

_He reached out and held Jonathan's hand as they made love, whispering promises between feather-light nips on swollen lips. _

_Crane guided his hand to his neglected erection, and told him exactly where he wanted to be touched. Bruce adored the way he bucked his hips deeper onto his awaiting shaft when he was stroked just right._

_Stars flashed behind his eyes as they reached their climax together._

Bruce opened his eyes and remembered things he wished he hadn't.

He was lying on the floor with his shorts tied around his ankles, and his shirt pushed up to his nipples. His cum splattered a sticky mess all over his hands and thighs. Ragged pants grew steady and he was ashamed.

The dark knight lost control so completely, so utterly, over a criminal he needed to catch. It was dangerous to have sympathy-_affection- _for someone who'd rather see you dead.

He tore off a length of toilet paper and started to clean himself. And besides…

He had a tournament to win.


	2. Chapter 2

Bruce was rudely awakened by the brightest light he'd ever seen. Many called it 'The Sun'. He groaned and pulled soft sheets over his head, determined to get a few more minutes' sleep.

"Come now Master Wayne, it should not be this difficult to wake a grown man." Alfred yanked the sheets off and threw a change of clothes onto the bed. "You _could _have slept in if you lost at fifth place like planned." Referring to how he won yesterday's games after his 'episode'.

The billionaire buried his face in his hands and groaned, grumbling curses against pretty scarecrows. "I needed an excuse to be there today, he had to have been staking the place out." He convinced himself it was only a half-lie, and he die before he'd admit how much the doctor rattled his cage.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that." Alfred gestured to a vase of blue flowers on the nightstand. Seeing his confusion the butler explained, "It arrived this morning, and I already checked out the company that delivered it. They said the order was placed by a J. Crowe."

It wasn't the same as Ras al Ghul's, but the flower's vibrant hue still invoked memories of a painful confrontation in the Narrows. Bruce was hesitant to touch the card, balanced precariously amongst cerulean blossoms. "Is it a hybrid?" He asked, dreading the possibility of a powerful new strain.

"Just a common daisy sir, with dye mixed into the water for color."

The card itself was simple, plain stationary with 'Congratulations' printed on the front. The back read 'From your biggest fan –J.' in a curled script.

Bruce didn't need to read the name to know who sent it, but his heart still skipped a beat at the name. For some reason, it made him strangely happy to think Crane sent him flowers. A piece of straw less than an inch long was caught in the ribbon tying the bouquet together. "He's baiting me, Scarecrow's never this sloppy."

The butler sighed "The problem is, who is he trying to catch? Bruce Wayne or Batman?"

His fantasy wilted, and jarred him back to reality. J. Crowe, straw, blue flowers, he wanted _Batman's_ attention and he was using Bruce's notoriety to do so. He felt a tinge of jealousy, was fame and fortune all he had to offer? _I got to get a hold of myself, we're the same person!_

The tournament was uneventful and made sure to lose early. Bruce kicked himself for wasting so much time searching the gala for the doctor even though he knew it was pointless.

He ran a few more tests when he went home, drowning his disappointment in work. The daisies were grown from a greenhouse under electric light. They were from seed packets purchased in the city, something no self-respecting florist would do.

A call to the delivery agency offered an address in a less-desirable district. It was most likely a red herring, but still worth a look. It led him to an abandoned warehouse that had been cleaned out a long time ago. The only sign of life was a greenhouse on the roof.

It had been built out of whatever parts that could be scavenged and had been in use until recently. Tall shelves ran lengthwise through the structure and stacked high with various shades of potted daisies. A workbench along the far wall was home to a roost of inks and dyes. Leaving him wondering how long it took to match the color.

An envelope was tacked just above the desk, a piece of pristine white amongst dingy hues. It was addressed to him, and he made note of the space between '_Bat_' and '_Man_'. '_From Scarecrow with Love_' was scrawled across the seal and Bruce made a point to tear it open.

The paper was blank.

Closer inspection revealed that in the dead center of the page, in a ridiculously tiny font, was one word.

'_Boo.'_

The fear toxin soaked into the paper hit his bloodstream instantly.

The dark knight's ears were flooded with the sound of a thousand screeching bats. "Who's afraid now Bat-Man?" His nightmare screamed in deranged delight and threw his head back in a laugh.

Bruce was no longer alone in the greenhouse.

Steel scraped concrete as Scarecrow dragged his scythe behind him. Overjoyed to be back in his rag-like costume and have his true face again. It _was _Scarecrow, not Jonathan. His Jonathan wouldn't laugh like that, he wouldn't wear madness and cruelty like diamonds.

"Come _on_ now, you walked headfirst into a trap…" He swung the heavy weapon straight into Batman's ribcage, knocking him off his feet. "…And do you know what the worst part is?" he asked, enjoying every moment.

Bruce hacked up blood and scrambled to reach the antidote in his utility belt. The madman caught the blade into his enemy's side and turned him onto his back.

He swung a leg over and dropped to his knees to straddle Kevlar-wrapped hips. Scarecrow set his scythe down and leaned forward slowly, draping himself over his victim. "You want me, don't you?" He sneered, running his hands over a toned chest.

The dark knight's face grew hot as he frantically held back fantasies of Jonathan's skin touching his. "You're wrong!" He growled in feeble resistance.

Scarecrow grinned through a burlap mask. "Bullshit"

In a fluid motion, he tore off Batman's mask and crushed their lips together.

Bruce squirmed to get away from the painful mockery of a kiss that left his mouth bleeding raw. Two hands wrapped around his throat, and the hero began to see stars. "_Aw, don't play hard-to-get._ We both know you'd let me burn Gotham to the ground if I promised to fuck you afterwards." Scarecrow licked his chapped lips at the thought.

"Wouldn't that be something? Right on your parents' grave too. I wonder what they'd say-" His sadistic monologue stopped abruptly at the sight of a syringe sticking out of Batman's thigh.

Scarecrow precious straw began to rot and turn to dust as daylight approached. "No…No, no, no!" He repeated over and over, clutching his head in pain. The nightmare dissolved layer by layer, until a broken Jonathan remained. He looked to Bruce with eyes turned red with tears, whispering softly "Save me" before he faded like all dreams upon waking.

Batman was alone without his nightmares to haunt him. The Scarecrow he encountered and his injuries were merely drug-induced hallucinations. He waited until his hands stopped shaking before risking standing. The drug was breaking down and his head cleared.

_Is that really what I'm afraid of?_

He knew his feelings for Crane were dangerous, and it wasn't his problem if he reformed or not. So why did it bother him to think that was there was nothing human under the mask?

Jon-Crane, he corrected, asked him to be saved. _It wasn't him, _he assured himself it was merely a drug.

Bruce found that most of greenhouse had been trashed during the scuffle. Shelves were smashed and potted plants thrown to the floor.

_Save me…_The words echoed in his ears, Batman tucked Scarecrow's note into his belt. "I'll try"

…

As pleasant as the morning was, the rest of the day was soaked with rain. Alfred greeted him at the door "Master Bruce, what happened? You were gone so long I feared the worst."

Bruce shook his head and worked at removing his gloves. "There was nothing but a toxin-laced booby trap." He made no attempt to hide the aggravation in his voice. "How could I've been so stupid?"

He was exhausted and wanted to go to bed. But before he could, Alfred stopped him. "Well you better your wits about you, there's police downstairs."

"What?" The butler stepped forward to help peel off the complicated suit. "I told them you were sleeping off a party, and I fear they're growing restless."

Bruce changed quickly, throwing on an expensive robe and a pair of slippers. He went downstairs and was slightly grateful for his eyes still being slightly dilated. "What seems to be the problem officers?" He asked, giving Commissioner Gordon a winning smile.

Jim was unimpressed. "Recently a criminal known as Scarecrow escaped from Arkham Asylum, and we have reason to believe that he's after you."

The billionaire feigned surprise. "Me? Why me?"

The older man handed him papers sealed in plastic. They were photographs and articles torn from the newspaper, all about him. "We found them in his cell, and we have witnesses saying he watching you on TV right before his escape." Jim sighed, "We'd to assign you bodyguards for the time being."

Bruce handed the papers back, making a note to photocopy them later. "I think I can take care of myself."

The Commissioner was insulted by the rude response. "Don't let his looks fool you! He's extremely dangerous, and wouldn't hesitate to kill for what he wants."

He held his hands up in surrender, "What I meant was that Batman already beat you to the punch in warning me."

The policemen were shocked to find the dark knight already on the case. Jim coughed, "Well, thank you for your cooperation. Call us if anything happens." Bruce shook his hands with Gordon, and thanked him for the concern.

As soon as the police left, Alfred said "I hope Batman remembers to think with his head instead of his pants."

Bruce watched his butler sort laundry in muted horror. "How did-?"

"If I can't tell when you have a crush after all these years, what good am I?" He muttered, picking up a load of whites.

"Tell me the truth, do you think there's any hope for us?" The billionaire asked, dreading the answer.

"He does seem like he's taken a shine to you. Our ragamuffin friend sent you another card, apologizing for being sick the other day." He gave a good-natured smile, "I think he wants to make it up to you."

Bruce was ecstatic, "Where is it?"

"On your nightstand."

The billionaire ran up the stairs, and Alfred called after him "Do try to recall that he's a blood-thirsty madman, and you're supposed to be catching him."

Bruce came back, note in hand "No problem. Some candles, a little wine, throw him back to Arkham, and visit on the weekends." Now, what does one wear to a date with your mortal enemy?


	3. Chapter 3

The restaurant wasn't hard to find, in fact, it was one of his favorites. The food was good and the lights were kept low enough that he didn't worry about being spotted. A young waiter led him to a secluded table in the corner.

Jonathan was waiting for him, his pale eyes sparkled in the dim light. "Word on the street is that you have a stalker." He teased with a smirk.

Bruce joined him in the booth, "And he looks an awful like you, _Jonathan._"

Crane glanced up from his drink and set it down. "You knew what I was the moment you laid eyes on me, and yet you still came. Why?"

_I wanted to see you again. _Bruce stifled that train of train of thought, there were more important questions to answer. "I wanted to know why the best doctor in Gotham changed careers."

Scarecrow was oddly amused by the lack of insults or accusations. "One day I met someone who offered me the strength to defeat my enemies. I didn't refuse."

Bruce didn't know what to say. He knew he was talking about Ras, and Crane's reasons for fighting were frighteningly similar.

"That's not the answer you wanted, is it?" Crane mused, taking a sip of his wine.

An idea struck Bruce like a bolt of lightning. "What would it take to make you an honest man again? Tell me, I'll do it!"

Jonathan's eyes widened in stunned silence and his companion kept talking. "You can finish your sentence and start over. Just because you've been hurt, doesn't mean you have to-"

Scarecrow threw the glass and it shattered an inch from Bruce's face. The doctor's face was red up to his ears in fury. "You don't know _anything_ about me. You can't possibly fathom what I've been through, _you_-" He seethed. "You think you can't just walk in here and tell me how to live?"

He was standing with his hands clenched at his sides. If his scythe was within reach, the billionaire would be a dead man. Bruce tried to put a comforting hand on Jonathan's shoulder. "I sorry, I didn't mean to-" _I don't want you to be angry anymore, please don't go._

_Not when I think I love you._

The hand was slapped away. "I don't have to take this from anyone, let alone you!" Crane stormed out, brutally knocking over a display that was obstructing his path.

…

"I take it you two had a lovers' quarrel, sire. Or was it more of a spat?" Alfred asked as he gave his charge a cup of chamomile tea.

Bruce groaned, this had to have been the stupidest thing he had ever done. Right next to being fear-gassed by _paper._

As soon as he went home his butler found his charge lying face down on his bed in depression. "At least take your muddy shoes off before you throw a tantrum, who do you think scrubs these floors?"

The depressed billionaire sat up and removed his footwear, as not to ruin the sheets. "I asked what it would take for him to give up crime. He…didn't take it well." He confessed.

The butler cringed in sympathy "Is this the end of your star-crossed romance?"

"I'm not giving up, not when I'm so close." He had an unwavering sense of resolve. "I need to talk to Gordon before I can find Jon. He knows more than he's letting on, and he's too good a cop to spill his guts to a civilian."

It didn't take long to suit up and catch the commissioner alone in his office. "I wondered when you'd get here. I hope you're having better luck with Scarecrow." Jim poured himself a cup of coffee and offered one to his friend. He refused.

"I had been keeping an eye on him since his escape, but I lost him after the Wayne boy got involved." He lied, but it was better than admitting the truth. "Yesterday Bruce Wayne received flowers from an unknown sender. After you spoke to him, the same person arranged to meet him in person."

The older man instantly blanched, fearing a murder or a hostage situation. "Scarecrow…"

"Eager to please a fan, he went through with it. When Wayne began asking too many questions, Crane became volatile and vanished."

Gordon slammed his fist on his desk. "Damn that idiot! How are we going to catch him now?"

He silently agreed with the insult. "I have a few leads, but I need to know what you found at Arkham."

Jim glanced over a messy desk stacked high with papers and grabbed a folder off the top. He flipped it open "The only thing that stands out is a statement from one of his former patients. The problem is talks like a fairytale, and Crane is the only one who fully understands it."

He skimmed the transcribed interview and handed the folder to Batman "He said that Crane escaped to find something that was stolen, but was too proud to admit it. He wouldn't tell us who, or what was stolen, just to 'Ask the lion, not me.' Jarvis also wanted us to pass on a warning; if Scarecrow finds what he's looking for 'his noble straw will turn to iron.'"

"Ask the lion, straw turns to iron…We're baffled, maybe you'll have better luck." Gordon poured himself another cup and realized his friend was long gone, along with the file.

…

Bruce flipped open his cell phone and called Alfred "Cancel my appointments for tomorrow, I'm going on a trip for a little while."

The butler was unfazed "Where to sir?"

"Georgia, I have I feeling Jonathan went back to his home town. At least I can find some information there." On Crane's papers he listed a 'Stephen Leone' as an emergency contact and next of kin. Leone was a French name meaning 'Lion,' while Stephen meant 'Crowned'. It was a stretch, but he was running out of time.

…

The small rural town was a jarring change from big-city Gotham. Crumbling factories and empty stores were ghosts left behind from an economy that died with the rust belt.

He tracked down the Leone residence which was an old farmhouse with cracked yellow paint. A middle-aged man answered the door and screamed obscenities in shock. "Who-what the fuck are you?"

Batman grabbed him before he could run, "Where is Stephen Leone?" he demanded.

"Stephen? There's no…You don't mean _Steve_, do you? He's nothing but a god-damn scarecrow out back!" The dark knight dropped him and made way for the nearby cornfields. "Jesus Christ, you're with that Crane kid…I knew he was a freak!"

He resisted the urge to go back and punch him in the face for insulting Jonathan. Off in the distance, an old scarecrow stood watch over the multi-acre field and one frightened child.

Crane sat under the comforting presence of his sole childhood friend and tall weeds that hid him from the world. His face was buried into his knees and he didn't bother looking up.

"Bruce asked me to find you." He offered and there was no reply "He really cares about you."

The doctor made a noise halfway between a yelp of pain and a sob. He lifted his head and Batman saw that he'd been crying. "No, he doesn't…" Jonathan spoke with a bitter laugh. "I laced my cologne with oxytocin, I thought it would be funny to make him my lapdog."

_It was at the gala, no wonder he's so addictive. The desire to devour him was all-consuming, I wanted to grab him by the hair and-_

"I wanted a pet, not _this_." Crane spat the last word like the idea of someone caring about him was ridiculous and repulsive. "I had my laugh and now I'm done. I want to go back to Arkham and pretend the whole thing never happened."

Batman tore off his mask, revealing his true face. Jonathan's eyes widened in surprise, he shouted "What are you doing?" The dark knight crossed the gap in an instant and grabbed him by the shoulders, using the scarecrow's post to hold him in place. "Tell me the truth. We both know that if all you wanted was a sex toy you wouldn't be here crying."

Crane struggled in vain to get away "Why can't you leave me alone?" Bruce gripped his chin to see into pale blue eyes, filled to the brim with confusion and fear. "Because I care about you, whether you want me to or not."

"I was obsessed with you, _afraid of you._ I figured out who you were and I thought that if I broke your other half, I'd be free. I wanted to see how filthy you are on the inside but…but…" Jonathan let out a scream of frustration and slumped into the stronger man's arms, defeated.

Bruce said nothing and was Crane grateful for it, he doubted his pride would survive another blow.

The doctor felt small and frail in Bruce's arms, but he didn't want to leave them just yet. "I wish I hated you." Jonathan murmured as he wrapped his arms around an armored chest. "If only because I understand it."

…

Suddenly he realized that Leone was the wrong lion.

_If Scarecrow regained his stolen courage, he would lose his heart and become the Tin Man._


End file.
